Have you ever experienced a piece of art, a book, a song, a television show, and felt like you belonged? What for you is that one created thing that makes you say “these are my people?” 

In Spring of 2017, I discovered a podcast called The Adventure Zone. The premise? Three brothers and their dad play Dungeons & Dragons. Since it was recommended by one of my favorite authors, Patrick Rothfuss, I made sure I jumped in at the very beginning with their 2014 debut episode of “Here There Be Gerblins.” The following week, I subscribed to the podcast My Brother, My Brother, and Me, also made by the same crew. 

Both MBMBaM and TAZ, among many other of other podcasts, are the creative endeavors of the McElroy Family, and most prominently the McElroy Brothers: Justin, Travis, and Griffin McElroy.  Perhaps their most famous show, and the first produced by all three brothers, is My Brother, My Brother, and Me, a comedy-advice show. In their own words, it is an“advice show for the modern era.” Since 2010, the brothers have offered advice and insight to questions submitted by listeners, and to questions scoured from the depths of Yahoo! Answers. Each episode opens with the disclaimer that “the McElroy Brothers are not experts and their advice should never be followed.” I promise you, most days I do not laugh as hard as I do on Mondays when I listen to the latest episode.

Their most popular podcast, The Adventure Zone, reflects a different creative side to the McElroy family. An actual play podcast (in short,) a series of recorded tabletop role playing game sessions), the show features the brothers and their father Clint McElroy. The first episode of The Adventure Zone is practically them opening the starter set for Dungeons & Dragons 5th edition and playing through the first part of the campaign book. Griffin, the “littlest” brother, acts Dungeon Master (the person who runs the game) and displays narrative mastery as he incorporates his family’s various goofs and running jokes into the canonical story in such a way that they function as important plots points and narrative linchpins. 

The McElroy Family consistently deliver in their content. Griffin and Rachel McElroy uplifting stories of what brings them joy in Wonderful, while Justin and Sydney (an MD) bring a more educational edge in Sawbones, a medical history podcast. But their humor is what grabs me. It is often irreverent, frequently self-referential, and it always chases its own tangents into absurdity. It is, frankly, my kind of humor. 

Such humor, particularly the aspect of pushing into the absurd, is not everyone’s cup of tea. When I first listened to MBMBaM in 2017, I immediately resonated with their humor which seemed to flow from merely voicing their stream of consciousness.. The jokes and tangents that drew side-eyed glances and frowns from my friends and family members were on full display and without apology. “These are my people,” I later told my wife.  I devoured the McElroys’ content and caught hints of other parts of their experience that resonated with my own. The brothers alluded to their upbringing in the Southern Baptist Church. They referenced youth group games and niche evangelical subculture with references to shows like Veggie Tales and McGee and Me. The sense of kinship I felt with the Brothers McElroy was quickly becoming one beyond a shared sense of humor. Not only that, but their gibes and jabs at their own history in an SBC church in Huntington, West Virginia were rarely made with any malice or anger. Whatever their history was, and whatever hurt or trauma they endured in that context, the brothers seemed, at the very least, committed to not demonizing that aspect of their history. It was a far cry from other podcasts in which the hosts seemed to sit in anger (albeit often justified) at their evangelical background and upbringing. I continued to recognize myself in the McElroys.

  To identify so strongly with a group, personality, or celebrity has its pitfalls. Too often our love for something with which we feel a sense of kinship catapults that something into a lofty seat upon a pedestal where it shall not be scrutinized or called into account. The danger here is that digging into the history of any family, tribe, or any other kin groupreveals its offenses and transgressions.

I recently watched a lecture that Griffin McElroy gave in 2019 at Florida State University. Throughout it, Griffin discusses more of his family history and the passing of their mother when he was in high school. (He also mentions his brief consideration of studying to become a youth pastor which is what I studied in college… the kinship continues). At one point during the Q&A, a student asks about their intentionality in LGBTQ representation in TAZ as well as their LGBTQ following. Griffin answers by sharing that their fans early on were very gracious and direct in telling the McElroy Brothers that their jokes were hurtful and offensive, but that they still desired to listen to their show. Travis McElroy echoed this in a 2017 lecture at the Ohio Media School Columbus Campus. “There’s a lot of malice that came out of ignorance… our audience was very kind to us.”  Since I didn’t start listening to MBMBaM until 2017, I was unaware of this piece of their history. All of their humor was largely inclusive and in good fun, abiding by the McElroy podcast rule “No Bummers.” My curiosity piqued, and the following week I downloaded their first 20 episodes from 2010.

In 2010, I was in the latter half of my college career. (studying to be a youth pastor, mind you). To this day, my college friends and I are as close as we ever were. We still keep in touch and it is a gift. But to be honest, we made hurtful and offensive jokes at the expense of others. Many jokes were at the expense of members of the LGBTQ community or people of color, and often they were sexist and made in jest to our female friends. If you had asked us if we wished ill or harm on such individuals, we all would have been disgusted and aghast that the question was even asked. Of course not. “We have good friends who…” and we would have said that in earnest and sincerity. Yet, put a group of us CIS heterosexual white guys in our early twenties in our living room, and a bystander would likely never had known the difference. It was an irreverent trollish humor that pervaded and still pervades the internet. It was a humor I had largely forgotten perpetuating. When my college friends and I gather now in our early thirties, our humor does not compare. We’ve all matured and are married, some with kids. I had forgotten that such humor was ever so ingrained in me.

Then I listened to those first 20 episodes of MBMBaM. Through my headphones and car stereo I found myself face to face (or voice to ear?) with my own sin and offenses. Not only do I resonate with the McElroys in the present, I resonate with who they once were. Those first episodes are funny. The McElroys are funny dudes. But they say some particularly homophobic and racist stuff that is meant to be fun, but caused me to cringe. It was not only the content that made me cringe at points, it was that my sense of kinship with them continued. Make no mistake, learning the history of those with whom you resonate will turn up the worst of you and your history. It surely did, and does, for me. And I was faced with a choice. I could ignore my transgressions that had returned, unconfessed and unrepented, or I could embrace that the Holy Spirit was using my creative heroes as an opportunity for sanctification and healing.

So I’ve kept listening, hoping to cover a decades worth of content over the next year or two. With these early episodes, I often hear a joke that reminds me of things I have said, and I say a prayer of confession, seeking forgiveness for not having loved God with my whole heart and loving my neighbor as myself. And as I listen I am seeing the glimpses of how the McElroys slowly changed, grown, and moved through their own journey of repentance (although those are my words for this experience, not theirs). I am convinced that the Holy Spirit is pursuing us as we seek the Divine, and the God who loves us uses many means to awaken us to new life. 

The tradition of pilgrimage typically involves a trail. The pilgrim follows the path trod by those who have gone before. These trails are often named after saints. Saints are those individuals whose journey we follow because it assists us aswe learn how to be more human, more as God has created us to be. My slow listening through the MBMBaM catalog is such a pilgrimage upon such a path. I prayerfully follow and learn, beseeching that the Spirit would convict mewhere I require conviction, and comfort me where I require comfort. 

On March 2, 2020, the 500th episode of My Brother, My Brother, and Me was posted. It was funny, as they always are. But it was a particular kind of funny. It was heartwarming. They interviewed each of their wives, and at one moment the brothers had all of their kids in with them to record. I cried. I laughed. I laughed while I cried. In that episode, I heard the McElroy Brothers reflect repentance and healing. Here was the joy of their lives. The whole McElroy clan (their father Clint included) was gathered. In episode 500, they still discussed how not cool those early episodes are. I think an important part of pilgrimage is being able to look ahead, to where others have gone before. No good comes from avoiding history, but exposing and confessing where in our history we have transgressed brings transformation. My sense of kinship with the McElroys has been, and I’m confident will continue to be, one that brings me conviction, repentance, and healing.

One last thing: our formation, our growth is never meant for ourselves. We are transformed so we can share that with others. The McElroy Brothers do more than just reflect repentance, they advocate. They creates spaces via headphones and computer monitors for people to feel safe. In recent years, Justin, Travis, and Griffin have repeatedly advocated for those who were the subject their offensive and hurtful humor a decade ago! Confessing and repenting is not enough, friends. Our sense of conviction must prompt us to say “That’s not okay. That is not funny.” If I could go speak to my college self, I would tell college Dan “Hey dude, sexist jokes are never funny. Racist jokes are never funny. Homophobic jokes are never funny.” If you will permit me to get a little preachy, in the gospels Jesus says that what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles a person. Our words, our humor reflects our hearts. The McElroy rule “No Bummers” is not about ignoring things that are unpleasant; “No Bummers” is about choosing not to make jokes about that which should not be made humorous. 

We are healed not only to help others heal, but to stop others from being wounded. Saints throughout the Christian tradition emulate for us over and over again how we confess, repent, and heal. 

For this reason, I ask you, friends, be mindful of what things your heroes are convicting. And don’t resist. Let it hurt for a moment. Let it grieve you for a moment.  Then open yourself up the joy and peace of being healed, and the opportunity to share it with others. 

If the humor I described from my history strikes a chord with you, may I suggest walking the path of the Saints McElroy?

On the off chance that Justin, Travis, and Griffin happen to read this, I want to say thank you. Please keep doing what you are doing.